%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A / DIALOGUE / between / the D. of C. and the D. of P. / at their meeting in / PARIS, / With the Ghost of Jane shore. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/27/2014 32734

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R19239 ARt thou return'd my sister Concubine, / For all those subtle Cunning Arts of thine. Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 82 1: 82 1: 82 1: 82 A / DIALOGUE / between / the D. of C. and the D. of P. / at their meeting in / PARIS, / With the Ghost of Jane shore. A DIALOGUE between the D. of C. and the D. of P. at their meeting in PARIS, With the Ghost of Jane shore. A DIALOGUE between the D. of C. and the D. of P. at their meeting in PARIS, With the Ghost of Jane shore. ?-? J. Smith

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/27/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class nobility/ court religious concepts sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/27/2014 2:56:22 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 6/27/2014 2:56:22 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2014 2:56:22 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2014 2:56:22 PM Transcriptionist Two Oberlander, Lindsay Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2014 2:56:22 PM Transcriptionist One Rendt, Ariel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/27/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/8/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/24/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/5/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/5/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/5/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">DIALOGUE</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">between</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">the <hi rend="bold">D.</hi> of <hi rend="bold">C.</hi> and the <hi rend="bold">D.</hi> of <hi rend="bold">P.</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">at their meeting in </hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">PARIS,</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">With the Ghost of <hi rend="bold">Jane Shore.</hi></hi></seg>
C. ARt thou return'd my sister Concubine, For all those subtle Cunning Arts of thine. With which thou didst subdue our Monarchs heart And would'st not let me with thee share a part. Tho my great beauty did that heart subdue, Long ere it could so meanly stoop to you? P. I am return'd to see my native France, The place where first I saw the world by Chance. Tho mean by Birth, yet Fortune this can do, Help by the charms of Wit and Beauty too, Me thinks my Port and my illustrious Traine, Should rather move your envy than Disdaine, C. My envy! no thy meanness I dispise. Thou art a Begger still tho in disguise. The noble Ladys of the Gallick Cou[rt] Will mock at your fine gaudy Train and Port. Thy Convers and thy Company they'l scorn, Since thou of Genteel Blood was't never born. P. The King's Example Dutches you will find, Shall make the Ladys of this Court more kind, For many services for him I'ave done, Which he I'm sure with Kindness now will own. I'ave serv'd him with my person and my Wit, But how, to tell you Madam, 'tis not fit. C. If you have ought for this great Monarch done, He'l make you then some Abbless or a Nun. For I do find 'tis not the guise of France Their Whores to noble Titles to advance But Usually the Royal Miss is sent, To some Religious Cloyster to repent. P
[2] P. It is not yet that time of Day with me, Nor am I fallen to so low degree; More joyful days I yet do hope to see. Tho I have here of English Guinies store, I thither will return, and get me more. England will me a plenteous Harvest Yield, Here to buy Lands and Palaces to Build. C. Methinks you talk at an immodest rate, Thou French She-Horse-lecch of the English state: Rome us'd to draw its richest Treasures thence The English Gold was chang'd to Peters pence: But now that Rome can draw from thence no more It is Enhansed by a Gallick------ P. If I'm immodest me thinks you are Vain Thus Idly of my riches to Complain: England did once to you an Harvest Yield, Alas! I'ave but the gleanings of the field. Gold fell into your Lap with a spring tide, But you have spent it on your Lust and Pride; Your time is past the Lust has made you old, And to be serv'd you now must give your gold. Or fumble with some weak old Clergy man To get a spill your royet to maintain. C. O Madam you must needs be very chast If as they say the prior you embrac'd I Laugh to hear of Chastity from you As if a Whore was E're to one man true. I own my nature it is brave and high, With Messalina I my self could Vie. Let a dull Husband ly with her that's chast I by a Prince am fit to be embrac'd. P. Brag not, your decay'd beauty is grown stale, And all your Arts no longer can prevail. I yet retain my glorious Conquering Charms. Whilst you are banish'd from a Monarchs Arms Alas your Beauty now is in the waine No Art Can e're renew that Face again, Madam the shining glories are all set Which makes you thus at the successor fret. C. Dull tool, my eyes yet sparkle and are good, I feel a vigorous May yet in my blood, I'm found and free from any foul disease, Can warm a Lover and know how to please. Whilst thou Corrupted scents the very room In spite of Essences and strang perfume. I can't but wonder by what Magick Art Thou e're could'st Conquer a great Monarchs heart, That babys Face of thine? and those black eyes, Me thinks should ne'r an Heroes Love surprise. None that are had eyes e're saw in that French face O're much of Beauty form or Comly grace.
[3] P. You are my Rival and may me dispise But Lovers see not with your envious eyes. If you in beauty have the greatest share, And if that mine cannot with yours Compare My wit exceeds and yours have prov'd but ill, Since you'r Cast off and I am Courted still. C. When I did raign I like a Queen did show, I sat above and saw Crown'd heads below, Of Jewels and of Gold I had such store, I knew not how to seek or wish for more. To me the Idols of the Court all bow'd, I was adored by the numerous Croud. Till thou wert seen who with some Magic spell, Some charm or philtre that was made in Hell; Didst my great Heroes heart then steal away, And took by hell bred Arts my Beauties Prey. This be my comfort I did first subdue, They were my Leavings that were shar'd to you. P. It shows my Wit and Beauty had most power, When I subdu'd your mighty Conquerour; And that I broke into your Beauties Charms, And ravished your Hero from your Arms. I'ave rul'd as well as you and my French pate, Have div'd into the great intreagues of State: In Balls and Masques you revel'd out your nights, But Madam I did relish state delights, My politiques and Arts were deeper Bred, Than ever came into your shallow Head, Vain Pride and pleasure were the things you sought, Whilst that four Kingdoms did imploy my thought. States men did know that you were but a fool, But they from me took Measures how to Rule. C. And yet I see you are turnd off at last, And all your cunning policies Misplac'd. P. You are deceiv'd, and I shall make you mourn, When you shall see me Madam back return Mind you your pleasures game your time away, My business will not let me lo[n]ger stay. To our great Monarch I have much to say. C. If back to England thou should'st e're return, May thou become the common Peoples scorn. May against thee the London Pre[?] rise, And may they pull out thy bewitching eyes. Against that time I will go learn to Curse, That Pox or Plague I'le wish thee something worse. What spector's this! P. O Heav'ns what have we here! My Joynts do tremble and my soul doth fear. The Ghost of Jane Shore to them Ghost. Perhaps you know me not, yet take a view, See what I am, I was once such as you I was a whore a Royal Mistress too.
(4) I was a woman of Egregious fame And like you two I gloried in my shame Edward my Lord was, and Jane Shore my name. I liv'd in splendor and enjoy'd delights, Feasted all day and in Loves luscious rights, Between a Monarchs Armes wore out the Nights. But when at last my happy Monarch dy'd, I lost my Riches Pleasures and my Pride, And all that ere was sweet or good beside. Alas, remember what of me became, My honour stain'd and black was all my fame, Scorn of the People to my self a shame. A wretch I grew wish'd I were never born, Poor and Contemn'd and every Rascals scorn, Unpitied dy'd most wretched and forlorn. But happy had I been had this been all, Or if that I had had no farther fall, But Hell on my misdeeds aloud did call. Tormented in the flames of Hell below, No ease from Torment pain and endless woe For pleasures past my scorched soul doth know. Short were my pleasures while I lived here, And those were also mixt with grief and fear But pain Eternal's in the lower sphear- You two great Women great in lust and sin Repent, repent, and to reform begin, For your reward you Hell at last will win. Rivals look on me and Contend no more, What you are now I once was long before, Yet I am damn'd altho' a Royal Whore.
LONDON Printed for J. Smith.